


Stardate 52761.6

by perfectlyoptimisticanchor



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28246485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlyoptimisticanchor/pseuds/perfectlyoptimisticanchor
Summary: Star Trek Secret Santa 2020 based on the request: Something with Garak going about his day on DS9. This takes place during season 5, episode 9. The episode doesn't reference any specific stardates so I made one up. :) Happy holidays!
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23
Collections: Star Trek Secret Santa 2020





	Stardate 52761.6

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ConceptaDecency](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConceptaDecency/gifts).



Garak walked down the promenade to his shop and raised the metal gate over the front. He paused to admire the new window display he’d worked on yesterday, showcasing some of the new Angolain silk he’d just received. It was much finer than anything that could be replicated, and, he hoped, would entice some passerby into popping in to order a new custom piece. 

As he walked inside, he thought about what he needed to accomplish today. He had some alterations on a Bolian neckpiece for the freighter captain who should be back on the station early next week. And he needed to begin cutting the ceremonial dress for the Klingon that Commander Worf had sent his way. He decided to start with the neckpiece as it had some rather intricate detailing and he found his fingers were their most nimble in the morning. He picked it up and settled in at his workstation.

He had just gotten started when a cheerful voice rang out: “Good morning, Garak!” It was Keiko, with little Molly in tow. “Molly seems to be growing like a weed. Can you let out the hem of these dresses?” She laid a stack on the counter.

“Of course,” Garak replied, standing. He looked at the little girl. “Molly, why don’t you take one and go try it on. You can step behind that curtain, right over there.” 

Molly looked at him with big eyes. “But I’m already dressed,” she said. 

Keiko laughed softly. “Honey, Garak just needs to see how much you’ve grown! Why don’t you put on this pretty green one and show him?”

“Ok!” Molly took the dress and skipped over to the changing room.

“Thanks so much, Garak,” Keiko said as they waited. “Molly and I are leaving again soon for the Horticulture conference on Bajor, and we’ll be gone for a few weeks. I want to make sure we have enough clothes to pack for her.” She looked at him knowingly. “I know Miles gets lonely when we’re away, and I’m sorry to say he’ll probably be monopolizing Julian a bit.”

Garak knew that all too well. Julian always felt torn when Keiko was away between getting in all the holosuite time with Miles that he could and still making room for Garak, whom he always wanted to see. It usually meant some late nights of Julian stumbling into bed after a long session battling Britain (or whatever it was they did) with Miles and poking Garak until he woke up, eager to relay all the specifics of that evening's game with him. While Garak wouldn’t want these middle of the night interruptions often, he secretly enjoyed them on occasion. Julian was always bubbling over with excitement from those battle adventures and Garak found it awfully cute. Not something he was about to admit to Keiko, though. 

Garak chucked politely. “Yes, I know that all too well,” he said. “They do like to have their fun.”

Just then, Molly stepped out from behind the curtain and twirled around. “Whee!” 

“You look beautiful, honey!” called Keiko. “Now come over here and step up on this box so Mr. Garak can measure your skirt.” Molly pranced over and hopped up onto the box. Garak knelt down and measured the skirt, noting how much he’d have to let down the hem and examining to make sure there was enough material folded up to do so.

“Thank you, Molly,” he said as he stood. “You may now change back into your other clothes, madame.” He bowed a little, playfully, and Molly giggled as she jumped down and ran to the dressing area.

“Now, let’s see,” he turned to face Keiko. “When do you leave for Bajor?”

“In 5 days -- do you think you can have them ready by then?” Keiko asked. “I’m sorry for the short notice but this trip just kind of snuck up on me!”

“That should be fine,” Garak assured her. “I’m happy to help a friend.” They shared a smile as Molly came back over to her mother, taking her hand. “Goodbye Mr. Garak!” she called, as the two headed out the door.

Garak sat back down at his workstation, picking up the neckpiece once again. He thought about the time it would take to hem the dresses, and decided he could hold off on starting for a day or two while he finished his current project. He worked intently for the next few hours, pausing when customers dropped in to browse. At lunchtime, he packed up his work, stretched, and strode to the promenade. He locked his door and made sure his “Back soon!” sign was hanging in plain sight. 

He headed towards the replimat, planning on a quick bite to eat before heading back to work. As he sat down with his plate of Risian seed cakes, he noticed Jake watching him.

“Oh, hi, Garak,” said Jake, walking over. “Uh, mind if I sit down?”

“Make yourself at home,” Garak gestured towards the empty seat across the table. 

“Thanks,” Jake replied. “I’m working on an article about Bajor’s attempts to join the Federation. I was wondering if I could get your thoughts, as a former member of the occupation.” He took out his PADD as he spoke.

“I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, my dear boy, but I was never involved with the occupation. I was on Romulus during that time, working as a gardener at the Cardassian embassy. If you ever want to do a story on how to grow orchids, I would be the one to talk to. But certainly I could share nothing about the topic at hand.” Your Garak voice is great! Not rusty at all

Jake looked disappointed. “Can’t you share anything about how the Cardassians feel?” he probed.

“I cannot speak for all of Cardassia on any topic, not even growing orchids.” Garak sighed. “Now, would you like to join me for some lunch? These seed cakes are quite scrumptious, especially with some yamok sauce.” 

“Well, that’s ok,” said Jake. “See, I already ate. With Nog. At Quark’s.” 

“Ah, that’s right, Nog is back from the Academy. How is he doing?”

“To be honest… he’s a little intense,” Jake said. “He’s always complaining about what I eat and where I keep my stuff. It’s a real drag.”

“Ah,” Garak nodded. “Yes, living with a friend doesn’t always work out. And sometimes your friends are not who you think.” Jake was growing up, and he should know the hard truths of life. “This actually reminds me quite a lot of a Cardassian novel you might enjoy, Recollections ObservedMeditations on a Crimson Shadow. I would be happy to loan you my copy,” he offered.

“Mrs. O’Brien was always trying to get us to read those old novels in school,” Jake confessed. “They never really made a lot of sense to me.”

“Well, as you humans say, to each his own,” Garak replied. “But I must say, you are missing out on some very enchanting literature.”

At that moment, Worf approached their table. He nodded at Jake, then turned to Garak. “How is the dress coming for my friend?” he asked. “I hope he did not give you a hard time. He can be very… particular.”

Jake took this moment to slip away, heading towards Odo’s office. He might be able to get some good quotes there for his story. “Thanks again!” he called as he left.

Garak, having now finished his seed cakes, rose to join Worf who was standing above him. “I understand the specifications, and everything should be ready for him when he returns,” Garak assured Worf as he returned his now empty dishes to the replicator. “I do always appreciate your referrals,” he added. They headed towards the door and back onto the bustling promenade. 

“Of course,” said Worf. “I would not send someone to you if I did not think highly of your work.”

“Of course not,” said Garak. He turned towards Worf and lowered his head slightly, “And with that, good sir, I must take my leave. Work waits for no one, I’m afraid. Good day to you.”

“And a good day to you,” replied Worf, continuing on. One thing Worf liked about Garak was that he always ended conversations promptly.

Back inside his shop and with the Klingon dress on his mind, Garak began to lay out the fabric on his counter to begin the work of measuring and cutting. He worked methodically for over an hour until he had a pile of cut cloth on one side of the counter, and a pile of scraps on the other. He stopped back to look at this work, and began to gather up the scraps. At that moment, Nog entered the store.

“Hello, Garak!” Nog called, decked out in his cadet uniform. He walked through the store over to the counter and laid down a pile of uniforms identical to the one he was wearing. “I need a dress uniform made, sir,” he said. “And I’ll also need a headdress to match.” He fingered his own headdress as he spoke. “I hope you can help with that; they aren’t exactly standard issue,” he went on, “seeing as how I’m the first Ferangi to join Starfleet.” (Garak thought he saw his chest puff out a bit at that.) 

“Of course,” said Garak. “I’ve made quite a few dress uniforms over the years, as well as quite a few Ferangi headdresses. Please step over here and I’ll take your measurements.” Nog did so, and Garak took out his tape measure. “Your father and uncle must be so glad to have you back on the station,” he commented as he began measuring.

“Oh yes, I think so,” said Nog. “I’m going to make them both proud.”

“And I hear you and Jake got your own quarters,” Garak commented. He was interested to hear how Nog felt about the situation after his lunchtime conversation with Jake. He may not be a spy the way some people thought, but he certainly knew the importance of listening and observing. 

“We did,” Nog replied. “But honestly, it’s not really working out. Jake doesn’t… have the drive I do, you see. He’s content to lay around all day playing games and not doing laundry.” A grunt followed. 

Garak thought he would try his advice once again. “You know, there’s a Cardassian novel you might enjoy, Recollections Observed. It deals with these same issues of drive and aspirations while working towards the greater good. I did mention it to Jake earlier, you know --”

“You did?” Nog exclaimed. “When was Jake in here? What did he say?”

“No, no,” Garak quickly soothed. “I simply ran into him at the Replimat earlier and mentioned that he might find this title to be somewhat… enlightening, should he care to pick it up. I think the same holds true for you, too.” He stood. “There now, I’m finished with the measurements. The dress uniforms are standard issue and I should have them ready in two weeks. You don’t have an event before then, do you?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No,” said Nog, stepping down from the box and tugging on his shirt. “Next week is just fine. And thank you for your recommendation. I’ll consider reading that novel.”

“Yes, I think you might find it enjoyable,” said Garak. “I’ll see you next week, then.” 

He settled back into the rhythm of his day, piecing together the Klingon dress for sewing. He was interrupted a few more times by customers making purchases and several of the station’s young folks coming by to browse. Soon enough the afternoon had passed, and Garak stood up and stretched, getting ready to leave work behind. He had plans tonight with a friend, and he didn’t want to be late. Besides, he was rather tired of the Klingon dress. 

He closed up the shop and pulled the gate down behind him, turning towards Quark’s. 

Garak entered the bar and took a seat next to Morn. “Hello,” he said, “have you been waiting long?” Morn, who never seemed to leave the bar, laughed heartily.

“Ahhhh, Garak,” said Quark, coming over. He set another drink down in front of Morn, taking away his empty glass. “What can I get you? I have an excellent Kanar, 2327 vintage.”

“And how did you manage that?” Garak asked, raising an eyebrow.”I believed that year to be almost impossible to acquire.”

“Come now,” said Quark, “you don’t expect me to reveal my sources, do you?” he chuckled. “Now, will you have a glass or not?”

“Oh I will,” said Garak. He turned to Morn. “Now, tell me about your recent trip home to see your sister -- oh, it was all yours sisters?” Garak settled in for what he knew would be a long story. He rather enjoyed these occasional visits with Morn, which had started after he’d accidentally sat down next to him one day. Since then, they had become a not altogether infrequent occurrence -- he got to settle back and relax after a long day without having to do much talking himself. And Morn was a very interesting creature. Just now he was relating a very funny story about his third sister and her sixteen children on their vacation to Kwejian. It turned out the gravity was incompatible with their species and they couldn’t even leave the shuttle. Morn rolled his eyes as he spoke. Garak nodded. “I agree, it is quite astonishing that they didn’t think to check the gravitational situation before they left.”

He was on his third glass of Kanar and Morn was on his seventh story when Julian arrived, breathless. “Garak!” he cried. “You’re still here oh good, I know I’m late I just needed to recalibrate the biosphere for the hydrogen test I’m running --” he stopped, realizing he’d interrupted Morn. “Well. I don’t need to bore you with all the details. But -- well, is it time for dinner?” 

“Of course, my dear.” Garak nodded to Morn. “Morn, it has been a pleasure, as always.” He stood up and turned to Julain, extending his arm. “Where to?”

“To be honest,” Julian said, “these tests have been running me ragged. I wondered if we could just cozy up at your place?” Garak bent down to kiss the top of his head. “As you wish.” 

They walked, arm in arm, down the promenade towards his quarters.


End file.
